


The Eraser

by modern_ills



Category: Naruto
Genre: Anbu Hatake Kakashi, Anbu Yamato | Tenzou, Angst, Bottom Hatake Kakashi, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-04
Updated: 2020-09-12
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:15:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26237740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/modern_ills/pseuds/modern_ills
Summary: The recurring trauma of death plagues Kakashi. He wants to be alone to figure himself out, but Tenzo can't bear to see Kakashi so solitary.
Relationships: Hatake Kakashi & Yamato | Tenzou, Hatake Kakashi/Yamato | Tenzou, Hatake Kakashi/Yamato | Tenzou/Reader
Comments: 9
Kudos: 28





	1. 15 steps

The shadows stirred. 

They always did at this hour. It was like the night forced them into crouched positions and only in the faint glow of daybreak could they move autonomously. Kakashi watched them from his bed, watched as they repeated corners and folded onto themselves. Then they stopped altogether. The white of morning warded them off. They retreated back into their cupboards and under the stove, some still clinging onto ridges in the curtains, careful not to breathe. 

This is another day, just like yesterday was and just like tomorrow will be. Another day. And he got to see it. Lucky him. Lucky, very lucky. 

Kakashi moved the taste of morning around in his mouth before he decided to gather himself together. Slipping off the bed, his bare feet touched the cold of the floor. He made his way to the bathroom, brought the frayed ends of his toothbrush up to his mouth and looked at himself in the bluish light of the bathroom. The tender underneath of his eyes were dark with shadow, his hair hardly even a shock of silver against the pallor of his skin. The more he looked at himself, the less he saw. The entire left side of his head was darkening into black static. There was a shadow settling on him. No- this was beyond shadows. This was nothingness.  _ Good Morning _ , he thought. 

* * *

“It looks good on you,” Tenzo said. 

“Hm?” Kakashi barely even made notice of him. The tapping of his sandals against the concrete floor bothered him. It was unnatural. Every step he took seemed to echo in his head. One click was a thousand and the second was a thousand more until his head was full of clickclickclickclick.

“The uniform. You look good with the jacket on. It fits you.” Tenzo smiled. It was always the same smile, like he carefully calculated how much he could give. Maybe if he pushed it any further it would break. It looked like it could break. 

“Mm. I’d hope so.” Kakashi passed him by. Had he waited in the hallway just to tell him that? Just to greet him good morning, just to say that? It was nothing. Tenzo said words but they were nothing. Kakashi said words back but they were nothing. 

“Senpai!” Tenzo called from the top of the staircase. “Good luck out there.”

Without turning, Kakashi raised his hand at him.  _ Thank you, but don’t come by anymore _ . 

There was blood underneath his fingernails, caught between the soft flesh and hard nail, small rusted coils he picked at every morning until it wasn’t anyone else’s blood but his. There was so much death ringing in his flesh he hardly had room for anything more, but he would have to make room; the hokage had entrusted him with the title of jonin leader, and though it felt abysmal, he had to undertake the task. Now there would be different lives at stake, lives that he would have to nurture. It didn’t feel right. He would fuck this up, he knew he would. Who was he to take someone under his wing? He knew he could be a leader, but he wasn’t sure he could be a teacher. There wasn’t enough of anything other than grief inside him. He couldn’t feel anything but pity, and sometimes not even that. He couldn’t even feel anything for Tenzo. 

* * *

_ Tenzo had been waiting for him. Kakashi didn’t know how long he had waited, but he guessed it had been hours considering the apartment smelled like him. It was the smell of cheap deodorant and fresh clothes. Kakashi turned on the lights in his bedroom where he found Tenzo sleeping in one of his old shirts. Kakashi looked at him, at the small rise and fall of his chest. There was something uncomfortable swelling in him, the coming on of hot tears. He wanted to feel the curve of Tenzo’s face, the warmth of the air leaving him. He took a step toward the bed, but the knives in his back pocket magnetized him to the floor. Kakashi peeled off his gloves and mask, carefully folded his ANBU vest and placed it on the dresser. He stripped off his pants and shirt and made his way into the bathroom. There, he looked at his hands in that cold light. How did blood always manage to stain them? He rubbed them together and the blood came off in rolled up bits like it was lint. It was disgusting. The steam from the shower covered the mirror in velvet condensation. _

* * *

At the training grounds, three kids were already waiting for him. One of them reminded Kakashi of Tenzo when he was a kid, the same brown hair falling over a familiar faceplate, the same dark, round eyes. Immediately, he felt something like resentment froth inside him, but he pushed those thoughts aside. If this was the team he was supposed to look after, he would do it. 

But these kids were nothing short of truculent. The grief burdening Kakashi’s flesh worked its way into his bones as he watched them. They didn’t think of each other; they turned their eyes onto one another like rabid dogs, unable to see what was beyond this. It felt like the twisting of a knife. How was he supposed to care for them when they didn’t care for each other? If Kakashi wasn’t able to muster up compassion and they couldn’t think of each other like comrades, how could they make it back home to their parents after run-ins with the enemy? They came at each other with knives and Kakashi decided then that taking on this team would be tantamount to killing three children, and he wasn’t a killer. Not anymore. 

“You all fail,” Kakashi’s bared eye glinted with resentment. “You’re going back to the academy.” 

* * *

Every day was a year. 

Everyday Kakashi remained clenched in preparation to relive the passing of his teammates and teacher and father on the anniversaries of their deaths, all the while reliving them every day. There were flickers of them in other people, but those momentary flames went out too soon before he could apologize, before he could make it up to them, before he could prove that their deaths were not in vain. Today he didn’t see them, but he saw himself. He saw how his own motivations, his own senseless stoicism and arrogance forcibly took the lives of those he loved most. It was scarier, somehow. It terrified him to know that this great hemorrhage would not end with him, but would continue into the next generation and the generation after that. Perhaps he was wrong in failing them. Maybe he could prune their egos and instill in them the values he had to learn alone. But the process would be arduous and painful, and he was tired. 

Tenzo was leaning on the door to Kakashi’s apartment looking at a moth’s faltering spiral around a lightbulb. He was clad in his ANBU uniform and covered in something like soot. 

“Hey.” He didn’t take his eyes off the moth. 

He was here again, carting around more of nothing. Nothing he could say would be of comfort. He had already wasted enough effort on Kakashi. There was nothing more he could give. Kakashi knew that, and Tenzo must have known that, too. So why was he here? 

“What are you doing here?” Kakashi fished around in his pocket and took out his keys. It was good that Tenzo’s gaze was preoccupied with that moth; he would do everything he could to avoid his eyes. 

Tenzo let his head fall to his side. He stared languidly at Kakashi before saying, “Nothing. I just got lost on my way home.” He offered one of his waning smiles before peeling himself off the wall. 

“I see.” Kakashi unlocked the door, turned the doorknob, but kept it closed. “Do you want to come in?” 

What the fuck was he doing? He didn’t want to see Tenzo, he felt something heavy like hatred for him, and now he was inviting him into his home? It would have been rude to not invite him inside, but momentary curtness would be, ultimately, less rude than having Tenzo embroiled with Kakashi again. Tenzo moved closer to him, until his warmth hovered over Kakashi’s back. 

“I didn’t expect you to invite me in,” Tenzo said as Kakashi closed the door behind them. 

“Me neither.” Kakashi watched the back of Tenzo’s head as he looked around the apartment. He wondered if there were any mundane changes to the space that he couldn’t notice because he lived there. It must have looked different since the last time Tenzo had been there. The last time Tenzo had been there. It wasn’t worth thinking about that now. 

“Tenzo,” Kakashi started, “why are you here?”

He turned to look at Kakashi, his smile already fixed. “I don’t really know. I swear I thought I was going home, but… before I knew it I was here.” 

They looked at each other. Kakashi’s gaze flitted from Tenzo’s hair, to his lips, to his chest. Could it be different this time? If they did something tonight, could Kakashi give himself to Tenzo? No, he couldn’t. He wanted so desperately to believe he could, but rationally, nothing had changed. He was still too hardened, too afraid. 

Tenzo walked over to Kakashi with a somnambulist ethereality about him. The rustling of his clothes cut the silence of the room. He took off his arm guards and placed them on Kakashi’s book shelf, next to the keys. He took off his faceplate and combed his fingers through his hair. 

“I think,” Kakashi breathed, “I think you should go.” 

Tenzo set his faceplate down. He took his gloves off, then his vest. He moved closer to Kakashi and placed a hand on his masked cheek. He slid the hitai-ate up and off of Kakashi, letting it clink on the floor. It echoed terribly in Kakashi’s head, but he couldn’t do anything but stand there, feeling how warm the air between them was. Tenzo unzipped the green flack jacket and moved his hands under the shoulder pads, letting it brush Kakashi’s palms before falling into a lump on the floor. 

“The next part is up to you,” Tenzo said, keeping his eyes trained on Kakashi’s. 

For a moment, he felt his body betray him as he started slipping the gloves off of his hands. But he thought about it for a second more and decided that this was what he wanted. His body wasn’t betraying him; it was just one step ahead of him. It knew that he wanted this before he could even register it. He placed his gloves on the bookshelf next to Tenzo’s and worked the mask off of his face. He felt the pressure of the skin-tight fabric clamp against the sides of his head before finally letting go of him. 

Kakashi pulled off his shirt and Tenzo did the same like there was a mirror between them guiding their repeated actions. There were new scars climbing Tenzo’s arms, and Kakashi wondered if he could have prevented them if he were still the leader of Team Ro. Before he could stop himself, he ran his fingers over their raised surface. He felt Tenzo’s stare hotly on his face, but he couldn’t meet his gaze, not when he  _ knew _ these scars were Kakashi’s doing. Tenzo took the hand that was gliding over his arms and put it up to his face. He pressed Kakashi’s fingers to his lips and watched for a reaction. Kakashi looked up, finally, and pulled his hand away. 

“I’m sorry.” 

“It’s okay.” Tenzo closed the gap between them so their lips found each other. 

The first kiss was soft, like they were trying to remember how their lips fit into one another’s, but they kept pressing further and further, their lips catching on teeth and their teeth biting at lips. Kakashi felt his lips become sensitive with soreness at the repeated sucking of his bottom lip when Tenzo pushed his tongue into Kakashi’s mouth. They frantically pushed their tongues against one another’s. Tenzo pulled back, leaving trails of thick saliva hanging between them. He ran his tongue over Kakashi’s collar bone and settled on a spot on his neck. He could almost feel the bruise form. Tenzo’s mouth was hot and sticky and the suction of his mouth made Kakashi’s head swim. The sound of his breathing reverberated in his own head. Was he breathing too loud? Was he breathing too quickly? The room started spinning and he grabbed Tenzo’s waist to steady himself. 

“Fuck.” Kakashi’s head lolled forward to rest against Tenzo’s shoulder. 

There was so much of himself inside the room. It was just him and his breath. Tenzo was there, of course he was, and his body was solid and warm, but it felt like Kakashi could pass through him. It was his apartment, his breath, his shadows. Something like a sob was building in his throat. He didn’t want to be there. He didn’t want to be himself. He hated this apartment and the way his breathing was so ragged. Why was Tenzo here? Why was he kissing him? Why was he breathing regularly? Why why why why. 

Kakashi pushed Tenzo away. 

“Kakashi? What’s wrong?” Tenzo, flushed, looked at him apishly. This was wrong. It was all wrong. 

Kakashi closed his eyes and felt the hardness of the floor pressing against his feet. He held his breath, hoping it would stop the spinning of the room. 

“We’re done. I thought you knew that.” Kakashi’s voice was a quiver hanging onto the heavy air.

“I thought-” Tenzo’s eyes widened before they narrowed again. “You asked for time. I thought I gave you enough time.”

_ It’s not that. I don’t want you to go, but there’s something wrong with me. This isn’t normal. It isn’t right. I’m holding my breath. Can’t you see? Why can’t you see?  _

Tenzo looked at him for a long time. Kakashi could feel his stare on him and it made his breath catch in his throat. Tenzo let his gaze fall as he walked past Kakashi. He pulled his shirt back on, his vest, his gloves, his guards and faceplate. He did it all with surprising swiftness.

“Bye, Tenzo.” 

The door opened and closed. 


	2. Let Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kakashi is (unsuccessfully) pushing Tenzo out of his mind and gets drunk in the process.

_“Do you think this is normal?”_

_“What?”_

_“Us.”_

_“I’m not sure that I’m getting what you’re asking.”_

_“Don’t you think it’s strange- our age gap?”_

_“Is it on your mind a lot?”_

_“Do you think… Do you think I’ve groomed you?”_

_“Kakashi… Oh, you’re serious? No, of course not. I made the decision to be here. I’m here because I want to be here.”_

_“How can you be so sure that it isn’t my will bending yours?”_

_“Listen, at one point I was given orders to kill you. Do you really think our age difference is the weirdest thing about this relationship?”_

* * *

He was tripping over the soft little pulses of his own footsteps, the tapping of his sandals like a heartbeat against a semi-paved road. 

And the night felt like tar. He was wading through that impenetrable wall of stick, bogged down by time, by flesh, by self. The night preyed upon him; its black reeds pulling him deeper into the void that was compact earth. Still, he couldn’t be at the apartment. It wouldn’t have mattered if he stayed there: the shadows would coalesce into night, anyway. It was good to walk after the stiffness of losing your breath. This was good for him. It would be good. That was what he told himself once and again, like a mantra, but the streets kept glaring. The bars reeked of something gamey and the shops screamed as he passed them. No matter. He could ignore it all, play pretend that nothing was amiss and convince everyone of it by resting his hands calmly in his pockets. People don’t think about their hands. About what their hands are capable of. People don’t think about the warmth of their hands until they feel the cold of someone else’s. They don’t scour them every night to get the red crust out of the folds in their skin. But Kakashi had to think about it. He was aware of his hands all the time. Where they were, what they looked like, who they touched. And they were always heavy, bearing the weight of lives. 

Here he was again, at the mercy of a town. At the mercy of the awful guilelessness of the townsfolk. Konoha was not a bad town, and it’s people were not bad. They were worth dying for, after all. But they didn’t know, they couldn’t know, that people were out there again tonight dying for their sake. They would keep living their little insular lives, shielding themselves from this knowledge because mundane grief was all they could take. The aching of a tooth, the splattering of an ice cream cone on the ground. This was the pain they could shoulder. That wider, denser grief was to be cradled by people like Kakashi. By shinobi, who were to be proud of giving up their lives for the sake of comfortable couches and nights out. Maybe they felt this heaviness when the nine-tailed fox trampled the meadows of Konoha. But even then it was a strange, ephemeral hurt. Some of the townsfolk mourned bodies, but most cried at their cracked houses. The morning after, they observed the great big funeral. It must have hurt them. It had to have hurt them. They lost their hokage. But Kakashi lost much more in that same man. He lost a teacher, a mentor, a relic of better days. And now the town laughed, lights flickered on in the dead of night, people drank and made merry. Shouldn’t they be in mourning? Wouldn’t it be morally correct to be mourning those who died in their place? Kakashi kicked around a pebble wondering if other people thought these things. Was he the only one? Was he the villain? 

Of course he was. He coerced Tenzo into fucking him. From the very beginning, Kakashi should have kept his distance. He was the adult; he should have been responsible enough to keep Tenzo at arm’s length. But kissing him in the ANBU locker rooms only seemed like a good idea at the time. It only seemed like they could have some sort of symbiotic relationship. It was just gossamer over the ugly truth that Kakashi knew it was wrong. It wasn’t like Tenzo wasn’t mature or didn’t have sufficient life experience, Kakashi didn’t ever want to infantilize him, it was just that he couldn’t have made the correct decision about his own emotional health. He didn’t have any experience with relationships. Kakashi would be the first person who kissed him back, who he would breath in at night, who he would be vulnerable and exposed to. It shouldn’t have been Kakashi. It should have been someone good, someone his own age, someone who could love him unconditionally because he deserved it. There was nothing Kakashi could offer and still Tenzo loved him. It was wrong. 

Tenzo was now freshly twenty-one. He should be having fun. He should be getting into stupid little month-long relationships that fizzle out into friendships featuring the occassional blowjob. He shouldn’t be waiting for Kakashi. It was good he had kicked Tenzo out of his apartment. Maybe now he wouldn’t come back. It’s what would be best. So why did he feel a slow, funereal ache in him at the thought? There would be no more eyes wandering the length of a page. No more fingers dancing through hair. No more lips between shoulder blades. No more Tenzo. He wouldn’t come back. That was what was best. He wouldn’t come back. He wouldn’t come back. Like he was dead. 

“Oi, Kakashi!” A heavy hand fell on Kakashi’s shoulder. “Let’s go for drinks!” 

* * *

He could have kept walking. Ignoring Guy was almost an automatic impulse for Kakashi. But switching this version of himself out with one that was warm with liquor sounded nice. He’d already sketched out the night in his mind: he’d go into the bar with Guy, pretend Guy wasn’t there, pound some drinks back, leave. So he let himself get pulled into one of the very bars that seemed to scowl at him. It would go away with some drinks. Everything would get friendlier, lighter, warmer. He just needed a couple drinks. 

“Yo, everybody!” Guy had weaved his way through a mess of tables until he stopped at a booth at the far corner of the bar. 

_Everybody...?_

“Oh, Guy. We were just about to get some beers. What are you drinking?” Kakashi couldn’t see them, whoever “everybody” was, from where he was standing, but he immediately recognized Asuma’s voice. Fuck. 

“I’ll have a beer. Actually, make that two. One for me and one for Kakashi.” Guy flashed his teeth. He was oblivious to the fact that he’d just walked Kakashi into a nightmare.

Ignoring Guy was one thing. It was easy. Guy never looked at him with disgust or pity, no matter what Kakashi did. But the others furrowed their eyebrows and pursed their lips. There was nothing he could say to them. What the fuck could he say to them? It was better to not talk, to keep walking. They pretended that they wanted him around for old times sake. They didn’t want to hear about how every morning his face was becoming a little more of nothing. They didn’t want to hear about how he could smell blood all the time, even when the rational part of his brain told him there was no blood near him. About how it felt like his head was splitting open. 

“Kakashi?” Kurenai stuck her head out. Her hair fell against her face, pooling around her wide eyes. “Kakashi!” 

He offered her a raised hand as a greeting. That was as much as he could muster. He had already made up his mind long before he followed Guy into the bar. He wasn’t going to talk. He was going to get plastered. That wouldn’t change just because there were two more people cushioning the weight of his silence.

“Now all the jonin leaders can celebrate together!” Guy slid into the booth and Kakashi followed after him coolly, hands in his pockets, making sure that no one noticed the shallowness of his breath. He was sitting directly in front of Kurenai, looking out at the barkeep, eyes following the patterns of wood grains, eyes latching onto stains on the floor, eyes assessing the ceiling. 

“I’ll go get the beers,” Kurenai said before walking off. Finally, Kakashi could look in front of him. 

“Yo, Kakashi. Long time no see. What have you been up to?” Asuma fixed a fresh cigarette on his lips. 

“Hmm. I’ve just been around.” A perfectly good, sufficient answer. He had just been around. It was true. He hadn’t done much. He felt like he wasn’t doing anything now that he wasn’t going on missions. 

“How’s it been, testing the kids?” 

“Fine.”

“Really?” 

“Yes.” 

“I heard you’ve failed every team.” 

“Asuma!” Kurenai was back now, setting the mugs of draft beer on the table. 

They hadn’t been there for more than fifteen minutes and already someone’s face was pinched. Now that he was up close, he realized it might not have been pity. This was fear. What did they think he would do? Kill them? He wasn’t a killer. Not anymore. He never wanted to be a killer. He had just wanted to be a great shinobi, like his dad. 

“That’s right.” Kakashi downed his mug. “Excuse me.”

“Kakashi...?” Guy called after him. 

It was fine, he wasn’t going to leave. He was already there, after all. He was just going to the bar to get some more drinks. Another round for everyone, plus something 80-proof for himself. He’d say as much, but his breathing wasn’t getting any easier. It was still shallow. Nothing another round couldn’t fix. 

But the floor was stretching in front of him. Suddenly the number of tables multiplied and the bar was getting further and further away from him. He had to be normal, walk the length normally, hands in pockets, one foot in front of the other, gliding. He walked. Walked. Walked and kept walking until he found himself in front of the barkeep, ordering beers and a cocktail. This was fine. The wrinkles in the night would smooth themselves out as long as he kept his composure. That was all he had to do. So he downed the cocktail and ordered another before he went back to the booth, mugs of beer in tow. 

And he was right. He found he didn’t care too much about having to face Kurenai, now. They were just people. The same stupid, shallow people he would always run into in the village. 

“Drinks,” was what he said as he laid the platter of beers on the table. 

“Th-thanks, Kakashi,” Kurenai said, her first pint still nearly full. 

He was getting warm now, and sort of airy. The fog in his head wasn’t clearing, but becoming a different sort of fog. He felt good, or close to good. And he wasn’t even thinking about Tenzo. _Hah. Take that. I’ve gone just about 40 minutes without even thinking about you. Wait. I just thought about him. But I won’t do it again. Glug glug glug. Is it normal to say ‘glug glug glug’ in your head while you drink? Do normal people do that?_

His second cocktail was finished and he started his second pint before anyone else had even gotten halfway done with their first. 

“Are you sure you don’t want to slow down there?” Asuma shot him a concerned look. 

Kakashi stared at him, picked up his pint, and drank the rest of what was left. 

“Hm, look at the time. I have to get going,” Kakashi pushed himself off the table and away from the booth. “You’ll be paying, right?” 

He didn’t wait for a response. He walked out of the bar in what he assumed was a straight line. Once he was out, he allowed himself a slow stumble, his body refused to be rigid or poised. It was funny. He felt good. It felt good to be stupid and slow and slovenly. Maybe that was why people let themselves be lulled into a false reality. That’s why they let themselves believe that people weren’t dying for their sake. Because being stupid made something as mundane as walking feel good. He didn’t have to put his hands in his pockets, he realized that now. 

* * *

_Hmm maybe I should get drunk more often. Become an alcoholic.Yeah, add that to the already long list of horrible things about me. Wait. Why not? If the list is so long then it won’t really make too much of a difference if I add just one more thing. I can see it now: I’ll be curled up under a bridge and dying from either alcohol poisoning or withdrawal. Maybe Tenzo will cry over my death. Would he cry? Probably. He’ll probably think it was his fault. What a narcissistic asshole. No, I didn’t kill myself over you. Stop crying. Hmm maybe I should haunt him. No. Can’t haunt. I have to pass on to the next life to see them. I wonder what they’ll think. I shouldn’t die from alcohol poisoning, they’ll think I’m pathetic. I bet they already hate me anyway. I can’t give them any more of a reason to hate me. Drinking with them would be so much fun. Obito would probably get too drunk and pass out before the night even started. I’d convince Rin that playing a prank on him is a good idea and we’d probably do something stupid like pour water on his pants and convince him that he pissed himself. That’d be fun._

Before he knew it, his stumbling feet had led him to the memorial stone. 

“Hey. Sorry to visit you like this,” he started, digging up dirt with his foot. “I’ve been thinking about you guys a lot. Well, I’m always thinking about you guys.” He paused. “The hokage assigned me to be a jonin leader. Can you believe that? Me, a jonin leader. I guess you wouldn’t believe it, considering the kind of person I was. But I’m trying every day. To be better. I don’t know if it’s working, and I’ll never be like Minato-sensei, I know that much. But I can assure you that I won’t be taking on a squad that can’t work as a team. I’ve had to fail all of the kids, but I’ll find a good team. A team that honors you both. I’ll find them. And when I do, I’ll make sure to protect them. I promise.” He smiled a bit. “I just came by to say that. I’ll be back tomorrow. ‘Night.” 

* * *

Did the key get bigger? It didn’t fit into the keyhole, no matter how many times Kakashi tried to wiggle it in. There must have been a latency period with the alcohol. How was he more drunk now, an hour after his last drink? 

“Fuck this.” He gave up, slouching against the door, sinking until he touched the floor. He felt its coolness through his clothes. 

There was that same moth. It spiraled around the light bulb, hitting it and falling, then picking itself back up with flickering wings. It cast a long, sputtering shadow against the wall. What a sorry existence. Always orbiting the thing that would eventually kill it, either from heat or exhaustion. Kakashi almost felt pained for the moth. It was a farcical warmth, a sinister warmth. But the moth couldn’t know that. He sighed. 

“I suppose it’s time to try again.” He picked himself up, managing to straighten himself out without falling. The key fit this time, without too much resistance. 

He set his keys down on the bookshelf. He stood there for a moment, assessing the inside of the apartment. The shadows were there, greeting him. He slipped off his sandals, his gloves, his mask, vest, shirt. They fell on the floor without regard to order, gelling into the floor. He went into the bathroom, turned on the light, and stared at the mirror. For the first time in a month, his entire face was there. He had both eyes. He touched the scar, the little bit of jagged skin breaking his eyebrow in two. He’d always hated the scar, but he was glad he could see it again. Because he knew now that it was more than a reminder that he was gone, but proof that they had been friends. 

He kicked off his pants, drew himself a hot bath, and slipped in. The water held him with scalding hands. The pain gave way quickly and he nearly fell asleep in the tub. It was so warm. He was so warm. Then Tenzo came to mind. Tenzo’s lips. His arms. His naked body, solid and warm against Kakashi’s.

It took so little for him to get hard. His cock was pressed against his stomach, aching to be touched. _This is disgusting. I’m disgusting._ He touched himself anyway, imagining Tenzo’s lips around him, warm and wet. Tenzo kneeling and running his tongue over Kakashi’s hot cock. Imagining how he’d wrap his hand around the base and put the tip in his mouth. Tenzo pushing further into his mouth so Kakashi could feel the ridges of his palate against his tip and how his tongue pressed hard along the base. His tongue moving back and forth against Kakashi’s shaft, coming further down every time. His cheeks sinking in, putting pressure all around his cock. 

“Fuck, fuck.” He pumped himself harder at the thought of pushing Tenzo deeper between his thighs, Tenzo gagging in response. He imagined cumming in Tenzo’s mouth and Tenzo swallowing it all, his cock touching the soft back of his throat. Fuck, he was going to cum. He was actually going to cum. In the bath, no less. He stood up hurriedly and drained the bath, cock in hand. 

He whined, his entire body was begging to let himself cum. But the water wasn’t all down the drain. He’d have to wait a couple seconds longer in painful want. “Fuck, ah.” It was too much to take. He pressed one hand against the shower wall and pumped himself hard and fast. He came, cock pulsing in his hand, onto the shower wall. He held back a moan, as if allowing himself to moan would make this beyond redemption.

_Fuck. I’m so fucking gross._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's 11:30 PM on Friday. So I've just managed to make the promised Friday update! Next chapter next Friday, you know the deal. Thanks for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I've worked on this for about a week and I just really needed to publish this first chapter before I double guessed myself and scrapped the whole thing. I'll try to update next Friday. Also! The title "The Eraser" is a song by Thom Yorke which I think really fits the Kakashi/Tenzo dynamic lol. This is the first fic I've ever written so please... be gentle with me... or don't. hahaha


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